


Disney Wolf

by almostally



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Disney, Disney World & Disneyland, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 04:32:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5320562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almostally/pseuds/almostally
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek liked working at Magic Kingdom. He really did. The hours were awful (Who wants to go to a park until 3 in the morning? Why are they open that late ever?) and the guests were worse, but deep down he really liked it. That’s why he extended his original college program to a full year instead of the 6 months he was originally supposed to work. </p><p>(Derek works at Disney World and the two new idiots in his training group are hellbent on driving him insane.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not know waaay too much about Disney World but you can't prove that I ever worked for a mouse so.
> 
> I tried to make everything understandable to someone who doesn't work at Disney but if anything's confusing please tell me!

“Can I have…” the guest trailed off, pulling back dramatically to squint at the menu above his head. His movement made him almost hit the guest behind him, who stepped back in disgust. “Can I have a soft-serve vanilla swirl ice cream?”

  
Derek let out a controlled breath through his nose before answering, “Would you like vanilla or swirl?”

  
“Vanilla swirl,” the guest nodded back.

  
“No, we have chocolate, vanilla, and then a mix of both ice creams called swirl,” he explained in falsely happy voice. His smile looked slightly strained.

  
“Oh, vanilla then,” the middle aged man ordering answered back, pulling back to glare up at the menu again. He switched back to the register like the menu had personally betrayed him, wrinkling his nose up.

  
“Okay, can do. Cup or cone?” Derek continued, his finger poised over the column of buttons for vanilla ice cream.

  
“A cone,” the guest answered, already rummaging around in their bag for change.

  
“That’ll be $3.93, sir,” he said automatically, tapping the button on the screen. “Will that be all for you?”

  
“Uh, yeah, that should be all,” the guest muttered, digging deeper in their enormous backpack. “I swear my card is here somewhere.”

  
Derek looked weakly at the MagicBand on the guest’s wrist that was probably hooked up to an account, his ice cream filler already holding the vanilla cone to the side of him.

  
The guest finally fished out their card, attacking the card scanner with vigor despite the fact that their card isn’t facing the right way for the scanner to work. Before Derek could correct him, he did it again in rapid succession before handing the card to Derek with a groan.

  
“They really need to fix the machines!” the guest complained. “Nothing in this park even works.”

  
“Sorry about that, sir,” Derek mimed back, hitting the Total button and then the Credit button before swiping the card.

  
The guest accepted the cone presented by the Filler, immediately licking a stripe up it. He crunched up his forehead for a second before blurting out, “Wait no, I actually wanted chocolate! Also can I use a snack credit on my dining plan instead of my card?”

  
Derek blinked tiredly at the guest as he holds the receipt for the completed transaction in his hand before turning around to call the manager with a quick “of course, one second, sir.”

  
\--

Derek liked working at Magic Kingdom. He really did. The hours were awful (Who wants to go to a park until 3 in the morning? Why are they open that late ever?) and the guests were worse, but deep down he really liked it. That’s why he extended his original college program to a full year instead of the 6 months he was originally supposed to work.  
What he didn’t realize about extending, though, was that all of his friends were going to leave. Sure there was a few from his original program left at his work location, but the majority of his friends had flown off to their hometowns, leaving him surrounded by grumpy part-timers and training groups.

  
The training groups full of overly energetic new college program kids to be specific. Derek got it, he did, because he was there at one time, too. But after six months of fifty hour work weeks and guests who can’t even find their left hand let alone the closest restroom or their credit card, the magic has worn off.

  
But for the new kids the magic was brand new and untainted yet. They weren’t ruined by four am closing shifts yet so they still had almost unbridled energy. But what university kid with unlimited access to Walt Disney World wouldn’t have an enormous amount of energy? They were hired for a reason.

  
There was one training group that was getting on his nerves more than the others, though, and that was one with the inseparable brothers. They weren’t actually brothers, exactly, but they were best friends who acted like they were freaking conjoined at the hip.

  
Derek still wasn’t sure if they were friends before the program or if they managed to bond that much in the week they’ve been in Orlando already, but what he did know was that they were fucking annoying. He wasn’t sure how they managed to get in every location he was working in for the week, but every time he turned around the two were bumbling around together.

  
It was infuriating.

  
From something as simple as trying to walk to the B side counter of Friar’s Nook to get the apple juice bottle that a guest ordered and having to push through two idiots and a trainer staring at the closed side’s register and blocking the path, to trying to pull out a new pan of cinnamon rolls from the warmer to bring to the front and having to physically move the one with the crooked jaw from the door where he was trying to read the poster for a Stands East vs. Stands West competition, they were constantly in the way.

  
It was going to be a frustratingly long end of his program, he could tell.

  
\--

Derek was tidying up the back of Auntie Gravities right after calling the Manager’s Office for their closing walk. He swiped a wet Soft’n’Fresh towel over the counter used to prep smoothies before opening the door to the front filling area.

  
He was immediately greeted with a flood of ice cream. He slowly looked up to see Stiles shoving at the faceplate to one of the ice cream machines while Scott desperately tries to spin the pins locking it in place.

  
“Who’s fault is this?” Derek stated in the most tired voice he thinks he’s ever heard come out of his mouth. Both Stiles and Scott point at each other.

  
“It was beeping!” Stiles argued, looking up at Derek with panicked eyes. There was ice cream down the front of his grey Tomorrowland buttoned shirt and black pants, his hat on the floor in a puddle of ice cream. “The machine was beeping and I thought I had to take off the faceplate to make it stop and obviously I didn’t think and oh my god I’m so sorry.”

  
Scott was frozen with his hand around the pin, the ice cream having stopped flowing out of the machine already. He looked up at Derek with obvious fear in his eyes.

  
“You’re gonna kill us aren’t you?” Stiles continued to blabber, letting go of the faceplate and standing there beside the unmoving Scott. “Just make it quick, please. Take me out with the cone holder or something.”

  
Derek didn’t say anything, just heading into the backroom again and picking up the phone, dialing in the number for the manager’s office again.

  
“Hello, this is Derek at Gravitie’s,” he started. “We’re actually not ready for our walk yet.”

  
Stiles yelped as two packs of Soft’n’Fresh towels hit him in the face followed by an actual pile of cloth towels.

  
\--

Stiles watched as Isaac stepped up the computers at the break area, pulling down his brown Fantasyland pants grumpily. Typing in his work number without a thought, he hit the ‘get assignment’ button, chewing on the corner of his lip.

“You have been assigned to Tea Cups Merge, no,” Isaac groaned. “I hate the fucking teacups.”

“Come on! The teacups are great,” Erica chimed, pushing him out of the way with her hip. She logged him out, and gets her own assignment.

“Stroller parking,” she cheered.

“Trade me!”

“No way in hell, buttercup,” Erica smiled sweetly. “Have fun with the nausea cups. I heard they already had a Code V today.”

“But it’s only 10,” Isaac said unbelievingly. “You can’t tell me some kid already chucked up his guts on the cups. It’s not even hot out yet.”

“It’s going to be one of those days, friend,” Erica said cheerily, patting him on the head as they walk out of the break area and out the cast door next to Friar’s Nook.

“Man, I wish I could park strollers for four hours,” Stiles groaned. “Instead of being covered in cheese, I could be lord of the strollers.”

“Yeah but then you wouldn’t be able to spray Derek with the wash sink hose,” Scott reminded him.

Stiles sighed, leaning back but flailing when the chair under him threatened to tip back.

\--

The door connecting the dining areas of Gaston’s Tavern to the back kitchen slammed open loudly, an alarming noise for 3:30 in the morning. What was more alarming, though, was the loud screeching singing coming from the two cast members bursting out of the door.

“No one’s slick as Gaston! No one’s quick as Gaston! No one’s neck’s as incredibly thick as Gaston’s!” Scott and Stiles screamed out together.

They emerged dramatically from the back kitchen with Stiles kneeling on the trash can cart, trash bags hung over his shoulder and one arm stretched up to the ceiling. Scott pushed him forward into the dining room, singing louder.

“We’re supposed to be closing!” they heard Derek scream from the front counter in the room over.

“We’re having a moment!” Stiles yelled back. “Let us have our moment.”

“I’ll give you a moment if we don’t get out of here on time,” Derek threatened, turning the corner to glare at them. The effort wasn’t as effective as it could be, though, since he was covered in cinnamon roll icing and holding several wet paper towels.

Scott looked down at his feet dejectedly. “Someone’s not feeling very Disney right now,” Stiles muttered, crawling off the cart. He handed the trashcan bags to Scott, leveling a (not so effective) glare at Derek before going through the door to the registers.

“Clean out the warmer in the back!” Derek yelled back at him, following after him.

\--

“Oh, yeah, put it in nice and slow. Just like that.”

Derek flinched as he handed a receipt back to the guest at his window. He thought he was unlucky when he pulled Register 5 at Lunching Pad at the computer (it was the busiest register, though some argued that was Register 6. He knew better.), but he had no idea he was going to be subjected to the idiots banter as well.

“Scott, I need your meat! Fill me with your meat!” Stiles screeched over to the boy currently taking the temperature of hot dogs on the rollers.

“Fucking hell,” Derek muttered as he turns to put lids on the Frozen Blue Raspberry drinks he just filled for the guest at his window. He turns to see Stiles with ranch somehow on his black hat and hot dogs in both hands. They make eye contact for a prolonged second as Stiles smirked over at Derek, wiggling the hot dogs in his hands.

Derek just turned back to his window without a word or reaction, handing over the slushies and signaling the next guest forward.

“I’ll have a Coney Island Dog without the onions and mustard,” a guest ordered, head back to look at the menu over her head even though there’s a paper menu in the window in front of her.

“So a Chili Dog?” Derek asked, fingers twitching over the buttons on his register screen.

“No, a Coney without the onions and mustard,” the guest answered back.

“Yes, ma’am,” Derek replied, pressing the button for a Coney dog even though the Chili Dog was cheaper. He typed in the special instructions for the Filler behind him (Stiles), and looked back up. “Will that be all for you?”

“I’ll also have a water,” the guest drawled, playing with the MagicBand on their wrist impatiently.

“A cup of water or a bottle of water?” Derek automatically replied.

“Bottle.”

Derek once again pressed the button for water even though a cup of water would have been free for the guest. He read off the total to the guest, who immediately starts trying to tap their band against his reader. He pressed total on his side, and watched as the guest fails to line the Mickey symbols up together like a toddler just learning how to use their hands.

“Here let me help match Mickey to Mickey,” he started, rotating the reader so that it registered the MagicBand. “Okay, now enter your pin.”

The guest stabbed in his number and the charge popped up on Derek’s computer which he pressed through. “I’ll be right back with your food if you wait right here.”

He spun around, grabbing a water bottle out of the bin next to him and staring expectantly at Stiles who is having Scott slowly shove a hot dog into the bun he’s holding.

“Oh yeah, just like that, fill me up,” Stiles moaned loudly.

“I don’t get paid enough for this,” Derek muttered, his face turning red as he raises his gaze to the ceiling. All he heard is Stiles and Scott snickering as they finish his order and pass it over to him.

“But we get the Magic Kingdom Quick Service premium, Derek,” Scott quipped. “A whole 41 extra cents, Derek.”

“Uh-huh,” Derek answered, handing over the tray to the guest at his window. When they moved out of view Derek basked in the rare lack of line he has at his window, the worst register in the entire place (for some reason guests can’t grasp the idea of there being 5 other registers that they could order at? They must get their hotdogs by standing in this specific line right here.).

He glanced over to see Scott looking proudly at the hot dogs spinning on his rollers.

“Ah, nothing like the sight of wieners rolling at 10:30 in the morning,” Scott approved.

“I’m fucking self terming,” Derek muttered.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I had photos of costumes to give you guys but imagine the most hideous thing that could ever exist and you're probably close. 
> 
> The circus costumes don't look like this but this will give you a general idea:   
> http://www.disneybymark.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/DbMdumbo1-copy.jpg

“I’ve found her,” Scott started, sliding into the booth in the Mousceteria across from Stiles. 

“Who?”

“The One,” Scott answered in all seriousness. “Her. My soulmate. She’s beautiful; she’s smart. She’s everything.”

“Okay, bud, and where is she?” Stiles tried. 

“Sitting over by the vending machines with the long dark hair,” Scott whispered, eyes flicking from where she was apparently sitting to Stiles. “In the training group.” 

Stiles tried to play it cool, stretching his arms out wide and turning around. He ruined it by turning dramatically back to Scott. 

“Dude, no, she’s Stands West! She’s the enemy,” Stiles barked. “She probably smells like turkey legs and cowboy sadness.”

“Point number one: we start selling turkey legs next week,” Scott shot back. “And number two: she smells fantastic. I know.”

“Oh so you leaned in and sniffed her? Where did you even meet her?” 

Scott looked down, his face flushing. “I stood in front of her on the Westclock Shuttle. She was talking to her friend.”

“And did you talk to her at all?”

Scott shrugged, biting at his lip. 

“So you didn’t talk to her and you sniffed her. Doing great at this flirting bit, friend,” Stiles muttered, glancing back at her one more time. 

She seemed nice, a kind face with long wavy black hair. She was tall, pretty despite the awful plaid shirt and tan shorts her costume required. Talking animatedly to her trainer next to her, Stiles wondered how long that enthusiasm would last in the Magic Kingdom. 

“I have to meet her,” Scott broke him out of his staring. 

Stiles squared his jaw at him, and after a second replied, “Of course. We’ll find a way in.”

\--

“Derek, do you know anyone in Stands West?” Stiles blurted out at Derek as soon as he took his position as the Market filler. 

Prince Eric’s Market, directly across from the Under the Sea ride and Ariel’s meet and greet area, was an outdoor location, meaning cast members were subjected to the heat and the bugs on top of the guests. There was also only three people running the location, so of course Derek had to be stuck with Stiles and a part-timer who refused to talk to college program kids. 

“Why?” Derek replied, staring at the people passing the stand, hoping one would come up to his register so he wouldn’t have to answer a thousand and one questions. 

“Just wondering,” Stiles replied carefully. “Sort of like, know your enemy right?”

“Stiles, they aren’t our enemy,” Derek sighed. “If anyone is our enemy is probably Fantasyland attractions because they always take our break chairs.”

He looked over to see Stiles squinting at him. 

“Sounds like something a West Side sympathizer would say,” he accused, his finger waving in Derek’s face. “You probably have a secret West Side lover! You hide your romance from your warring families, her crying “howdy howdy howdy” at you at night, unable to talk to you in the Tunnels.”

“Stop,” Derek pleaded. 

“You know you can never marry, never let your love be free. She’s a turkey leg girl, a waffle maker. You sell classier things like cinnamon rolls and hot dogs,” he waxed poetically. “You cry every day knowing you can’t have your lover girl.”

“Well I’m gay so even if I had a Stands West lover, which I don’t,” Derek started, “they wouldn’t be a girl.”

Stiles shut up for long enough for Derek to start panicking. He glanced over at Stiles, but before he could say anything someone popped up on the other side of him. 

“Got your break!” Amelia said cheerfully, holding out a receipt from the sign-in system to Derek. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled, taking the piece of paper from the overly cheerful newbie Stands member. 

“Have fun!” Amelia cheered at him, already signing into the register. He stepped away quickly, not looking back at Stiles. 

\--

“I messed up, dude,” Stiles immediately told Scott when he sees him after shift. They had plans to ride a few things before going home, but Stiles was still freaking out from what he did at Derek’s coming out. 

“Did you ring up the wrong thing? Because I do that sometimes and it’s not that big of a deal,” Scott tried to placate. 

“No, like I think I did a dick move.”

They came up to the Space Mountain line, which was only 30 minutes since it was so late. The park closed at 1 am, but most of the guests cleared out after the fireworks and the night parade. Once they were in line, Scott looked at Stiles willing him to continue. 

“Derek told me he was gay,” Stiles whispered, eyeing the guests in front of them. 

When he didn’t continue Scott answered back, “Okay and so are half the dudes here. What’s the problem?”

“I didn’t say anything back,” Stiles admitted. 

“Like didn’t say anything in a good way or an awkward, bad way?” 

They queued through the line, getting past the interactive games and ending in the shuttle lines. 

“Awkward way,” Stiles answered, looking up at the ceiling. “I don’t know why either? I just started panicking.”

“I don’t know what to say, dude,” Scott replied, holding up two fingers to the ranger asking how many. They got ushered to wait in separate lines for their car, Stiles in line for the front seat.  
“Why did I panic?” Stiles whined after getting into the car. 

Scott squeezed his shoulders, seated behind him. “It’s because you’re in love with him, Stiles. Everyone knows.”

“WHAT?” Stiles screamed as the ride started. 

He let himself scream through the ride, realizing in that moment that yep, he’s totally in love. Totally, head-over-heels in love with his coworker who probably hates his guts right now. 

\--

“I talked to her,” Scott wheezed out after running up to Stiles in the Mouse. “I actually talked to her and I didn’t throw up.”

“I assume you mean the cowboy traitor?” Stiles answered, though he’s grinning. 

“Her name’s Allison and yes, yes I did.”

“That’s my son!” Stiles cheered, slapping at Scott across the table. 

Scott blushed down at the table, scratching under his straw hat. He smiled a crooked grin up at Stiles, his face as red as the ascot tied around his neck. “She invited me to a party tomorrow night at her place,” Scott beamed. 

Stiles whooped, banging on the table. The table full of character attendants behind them glared over at them bitterly, but Stiles ignored them

“What time does your shift start?” Scott asked, trying to keep Stiles from anymore outbreaks. 

“2:15,” Stiles answered, glancing down at his phone on the table. 2:10 blinked back up at him. “Fuck! Gotta go.”

\--

Stiles took probably the largest steps he had in his life, trying to get back to the breakroom through the crowds of New Fantasyland. Looking at the ground and avoiding eye contact he almost made it past the castle walls when a tourist stopped him. 

A middle aged man stood in front of his path grasping a map in one fist, wearing matching shirts with the rest of his family. “Hello, where House Mouse?” he said in a heavy accent. 

“House Mouse?” Stiles repeated back to him, trying to figure out what attraction they could be butchering. 

“Yes, House Mouse. House of Mouse,” the tourist said eagerly, nodding so hard he’s worried about his neck. 

“Uh let’s look at the map together,” Stiles started. “Can you point to where you’re trying to go?”

The guest held the map out, but didn’t point to anything. 

“House Mouse!” the guest squawked out again. “Can’t find House Mouse on map.”

Stiles had a brink of a memory from his training tour when they were stopped every few feet by a lost tourist. “Oh Mickey’s house tour?” Stiles asked.

The guest nodded eagerly again. 

“Oh, I’m sorry they moved!” Stiles chimed, his brain churning to come up with an adequate story for the five-year-old standing next to his father. “They moved houses a while ago, but a circus moved into the spot where they used to live! You can still meet Minnie over in the circus tent, Prince. I heard she trains dogs to dance for them!”

He watched the boy’s eyes light up at dogs, so he keeps up with the story, bending down to talk to the boy on eye level. “If you just follow down this path past Gaston’s Tavern you should see the big circus tents that are the entrance to Storybook Circus. Goofy even lets some brave kids ride part of his stunt show if your parents let you!” 

The boy nodded eagerly, and immediately grabs his father’s hand and pulls him along down the path. Stiles let out a deep breath and practically sprinted back to the safety of backstage. 

\--

“Forgetting something, friend?” Scott says as he replaced the first register at Cheshire Café. The location only had two registers, and was slightly larger than a refrigerator box. They sold slushies and cupcakes, but mostly they were asked directions. 

Stiles looked over at him questioningly as he filled up the strawberry lemonade slushie for the guest at the window. He tapped the bottom of the cup on the grate, the ice settling before he added the final pour. 

Scott waited until Stiles handed over the drink, wishing the guest a good day, before he started again. 

“Your nametag.”

Stiles immediately whipped his head down to stare at his blank red shirt. 

“Fuck!” Stiles yelled, a second later checking the window to make sure no guests heard. “What do I do?”

“You can’t leave to go get it. I’m the only one here and a leader would see.” 

Stiles cursed under his breath, rubbing his hand over his chest. He heard Scott greet a guest and he turned around to a small horde of tourists surrounding their location.  
“Hi, I can help the next guest right over here!” Stiles called out, waving a hand at the crowd to see if he had any biters. 

Immediately a line formed between the two windows, and Stiles cursed internally. The first guest that came up to Stiles is obviously struggling while staring at the menu list between the windows. 

“Española?” the man asked, looking at Stiles earnestly. Stiles shook his head ‘no’ looking over at Scott who had his own line forming. 

“Switch, bud, we got Spanish,” he questioned, and switched sides with Scott who immediately started in Spanish with the guest. 

“What can I help you with?” Stiles asks his new guest. 

“Can I have a strawberry lemonade slushie and a coke?” the guest started, already digging in their backpack. 

“The slush I can do for you,” Stiles says, typing into the program. “We don’t have any sodas at this location, though, but right across the way at Cosmic Rays they can get some for you.”

“What do you mean you don’t have soda?” the guest grumbled, and Stiles took a deep breath. “What else do you have?”

“We have our two slushies, bottles of water, and bottles of lemonade, sir,” he replied, pleading in his head that the guest wasn’t going to be that kind of guest. All he wanted was to be yelled at by a guest AND not have his nametag on. He glanced behind the guest, making sure he doesn’t see any leaders. 

“I’ll just have two of the slushies then,” the guest answered. 

Stiles typed in the new order, telling the total to the guest and then immediately turning around to start filling two cups. When he turned around the guest had managed to pull out money, setting it in a small pile in front of his register. He put lids on the two cups and then pulled the change towards him to count before putting it in the register.

“You’re all set, sir,” Stiles answered, holding out the receipt to the man. He got a hand waved at him and the guest walked off without saying anything, struggling with putting straws in the lids. Stiles grimaced and crumpled up the receipt and threw it in the trash. 

He noticed Scott has just finished with the Spanish order and he tapped him on the back. They immediately switched back to their own registers, taking the next order. Somewhere after the fourth nonstop guest, with a line still forming behind them, a leader popped into the location behind their shoulders. Stiles felt a cold fear run through his body, and immediately started being more animated with the guest in front of him. The guest looked at him like he grew another arm, but for the most part the entire transaction went smoothly and he transitioned quickly to the next guest.

After the line didn’t shorten, and with Stiles still refusing to make eye contact with his leader (it was Lydia! She always looked like she could kill a man! And he’s pretty sure she has killed a man for costume mistakes once!) Lydia backed out of the location while just staring at Stiles. Once she was outside, she aimed a serious look at Stiles through the window, putting the fear of God (or the fear of Lydia) into his heart. 

Turning around to fill his order, he heard Scott laughing at him, but he took a deep breath, willing himself down from the impending anxiety attack. 

“You made it, bud,” Scott chimed in his ear. “You’re good. Your break’s gonna be in like 30 minutes so you’re all set.”

Stiles let out a shaky sigh, smiling up at him. 

\--

Derek stared down the Outdoor Vending cast member running the popcorn cart next to him. It’s bad enough he had to wear the Storybook Circus costume, which ought to be burned it was so ugly, but he had to parade around like a freaking outdoor vending cast member.

He had managed to give away every Circus shift he had gotten his entire program, never wanting to be subjected to circus music and pretzels for ten hours of a shift. But spring break season meant everyone had a shift everyday almost and no one was picking any of them up. 

It was an outrage. 

The cast members that were unlucky enough to be stationed in Circus were pretty much guaranteed to be at Circus Pretzel, the cart stationed right outside the main entrance. It was right next to an outdoor vending cart selling popcorn because it should also be outdoor vending. Derek should not have to sell pretzels and churros in the sun all day. Standing outside the cart was his partner for the time, a newbie who was way too into the hula-hoops they were given, trying to get guests to spin them with her. She had hit a kid earlier with the beanbags, trying to juggle them, and instead switched to the hula-hoops, which she was getting dangerously close to the kids as well. 

Derek sighed, leaning his head against the cart and wishing he could get an early release from his shift. 

“Derek!” 

He jumped back, eyes flying open as he saw his leader standing with her hands on her hips. Looking at Lydia in a form fitting dress and heels made Derek wish they required the leaders to wear costumes as well so at least she wouldn’t be as intimidating as she currently was. 

“What do we say about staying behind the cart when there is no line?” she questioned. 

“To not do it,” Derek groaned. He took his cue, walking around to the other side of the cart to stand by the menu. 

Lydia smiled at him engaging with guests, leaving and waving at the two of them as she walks off back towards New Fantasyland and the teacups. 

“Excuse me, where’s storybook circus?” he heard a voice screech out at him and he sighed before gesturing over towards the huge gates directly behind him. 

\--

Stiles raced down to the tunnels after he got his break, making a straight line to the locker rooms where he knew his nametag was sitting in his locker. He looked up in time to see Lydia and Derek talking by the Main Street computers and he felt his entire body seize up. Lydia looked up at him, fixing him with a knowing stare and pointedly looking down at his chest and back up.  
Stiles nodded, immediately ducking into the hallway to the lockers before Derek could look up. 

“I’m going to die today,” he whispered to himself. “Might as well put me in Friar’s Nook, because I’m already dead today.”


	3. Chapter Three

Though he wasn’t sure how he avoided it, he didn’t get placed in a location with Derek for the rest of his shift, escaping into his weekend with minimal scrapes. The next day he didn’t have work, and since Scott had got them into the party, he wasn’t going to be spending it laying on their couch till two and then going to the parks to eat expensive food.

The fact that the party was on a Tuesday night should have been weird, but Disney weekends weren’t normal weekends. They pretty much drilled it into their heads during orientation they ‘they work when others play’ meaning yes you will be working over every holiday and weekend, and your days off will be weekdays.

In true Scott fashion, the puppy-eyed teen ends up freaking out a solid two hours before they were expected to show up, changing his clothes for the third time just five minutes before they were supposed to leave. 

“But do you think I look better in this?” Scott asked, walking back into the living room in a slightly different shirt than the one he had on a minute ago. Stiles groaned. 

“You look great, dude. Now sit down before the apartment below us complains about the elephants stomping around.”

Stiles downed the rest of his drink, a solid 50/50 rum and coke (turns out their roommate Greenberg turned 21 a few weeks ago and didn’t tell them, the bastard), while Scott went back in the bedroom to look in the mirror again. Stiles stood up, throwing out a hand when his vision swam for a few seconds. 

“Let’s go!” Stiles yelled through the doorway to their bedroom. “It’s going to take ten minutes for me to walk my tipsy ass over there so we should head out!”

Scott appeared in a fourth shirt, trying to brush his hair out of his eyes in a nervous twitch that just made him appear manic. He whizzed past Stiles, who teetered after him, making sure their apartment door closed behind them.

“I know you’re nervous, dude, but seriously just take like two shots and you’ll be good to go,” Stiles reasoned. 

“One of us has to keep track of you,” Scott shot back, “and it’s obviously not going to be yourself.” 

They wandered their way towards the building that holds Allison’s apartment, Stiles groaning at the two sets of stairs they had to climb to get there. Scott knocked on the door, rubbing his hands on the front of his pants quickly before straightening up and waiting nervously. 

Allison didn’t answer the door, instead an intimidating woman with long, curly blonde hair and cleavage for days. She smiled deviously up at Scott who started to stutter out something along the lines of “wrong apartment.” Before he could get it out coherently, though, Allison appeared over the girl’s shoulder, smiling out at the two of them. 

“You made it!” she cheered, smiling widely at Scott. 

The two girls stepped back, and Stiles stumbled further into the apartment, Scott steadying him from behind. Their conversation skirted over his head, and he immediately looked at the crowd inside. There were maybe 15 people inside, grouped up around the apartment but what drew his eye was the enormous of alcohol sitting on the counter. 

Scott patted him on the back as he passed with Allison and the other girl – Erica, he thinks he heard – and Stiles tried to focus his eyes a little better to see who else was in the apartment. He recognized a guy from Fantasyland attractions, a tall curly headed person with sad eyes that always complains about having to work the teacups. Standing beside him facing away from Stiles was a man who made him tip his head to the side, trying to figure out where the familiar figure was from. 

When the guy turned his head to the side, Stiles felt his stomach drop out as he recognized it was Derek. Because of course Stiles would end up at a party with the guy who hated his guts. Making a beeline for the alcohol, which was luckily the furthest from Derek’s group, he immediately poured himself a glass of the first handle his hand touched. 

Putting back at least a shot without cringing, he glanced back over at the group to see Derek staring at him. 

Might as well get drunk as hell if it was going to be this kind of night.

\--

Stiles realized that his plan was the WORST IDEA EVER when he ended up in the bathroom with his head in the toilet bowl. After he flushed what he thought was his second upchuck (his memory was going in and out, sue him), he felt good enough to sit back for a second. 

He saw Scott leaning against the door looking at him pointedly. His face read disappointed but he handed Stiles a cup. 

“Doing great, bud,” Scott marveled. 

Stiles sniffed the cup accusingly, finding it was water. He took a timid sip, hoping he could keep it down. 

“Why aren’t you out there chatting up Allison?” Stiles groaned, leaning his head back against the wall behind the toilet.

“Because my best friend was in the bathroom throwing up his guts,” Scott shot back. Stiles sighed, rubbing at his forehead tenderly. “Also we totally kissed already so it’s gonna be fine.”   
Stiles smiled up at the boy then winced at the nausea hitting him again. 

“Okay I need to get out of the bathroom and into some fresh air,” he announced. “And you need to go back to your cowgirl and make up for me being a horrible guest.” 

With the help of Scott, Stiles managed to get off the floor and out the door of the bathroom. Clutching his water cup Scott weaved him to the door, patting him on he back as he slid the glass open to step onto the balcony. 

The warm Florida air hit his face and he leaned against the railing with his eyes closed for a while, trying to will his head to stop spinning. A cleared throat next to him makes him nearly jump out of his skin. His head shot up to see Derek leaning against the wall looking at him. 

“Crap, I’m sorry,” Stiles started immediately, straightening up despite the way his whole world tilted for a second. “I’ll just go, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were out here.”

Derek stood in front of his escape, though, his arms crossed in front of him. “Obviously we need to talk about something,” he speculated. 

Stiles groaned, leaning back against the banister again. “You hate me. I get it dude, I was dumb.”

Derek’s eyebrows furrowed and he narrowed his eyes at Stiles. “I don’t hate you, Stiles,” he answered back. “I think you’re a bit of a homophobic ass, but I’m giving you a second chance.”  
Stiles wiped his free hand down his face, looking away from Derek and at the palm tree in front of the balcony. 

“I’m not homophobic,” he answered back. 

“I don’t know someone telling you they’re gay and then you freaking out and not talking to them seems a little bit like you don’t like gay people.”

“Dude, I’m bi,” Stiles defended. “You being gay is great, like the best news I heard my whole program.”

“What?” 

Stiles shrugged, the cup of water splashing onto him when his arms flailed a bit too far. He cursed, wiping at his now damp shirt. 

“I don’t know,” Stiles answered. “I guess I never thought that you were gay and when you admitted it, I just…internally short-circuited?”

Derek raises an eyebrow, still blocking the door. 

“Derek, I’ve had a crush on you since I got here,” Stiles admitted, not looking at him. “Like it’s been pretty damn obvious apparently.”

Stiles glanced over to see Derek with a smirk on his face. He narrowed his eyes as Derek stepped forward to corner him against the balcony. 

“I would totally kiss you if you hadn’t just thrown up.”

Stiles devolves into giggles, still a little drunk and unbelieving in the situation. Derek pushed on his shoulder and they went back inside to the party, seeing Scott crashed on the couch with his head in Allison’s laps. Her hand stroked his hair while talking with Kira who was battling Isaac over something on an iPad. Erica was seemingly missing, either sleeping or off with someone. 

“Time to take the pup home,” Stiles announced, coming over to push at Scott until he woke up. 

“It’s not time for the bus yet, Stiles, I’m not getting up,” he grumbled, burrowing into Allison’s stomach before realizing what he’s doing and freezing. 

“Come on, bud,” Stiles pushed. “It’s obviously bed time for you and we’ve got to be back in our apartment by 1 for curfew. And you have an opening shift tomorrow.”

“Don’t speak such evil,” Scott groaned, but sits up anyway. “I don’t know how I got this awful opening shift anyway. I’m a CP not a part-timer, where’s my respect?” 

“You signed it away that first day, friend. Right along with your soul.”

\--

“Why is it always specifically rainbow sprinkles?” Stiles groaned as he slouched in the break chair next to Scott. 

Scott just looked over, allowing Stiles to go on his rant and get it out.

“Excuse me, do you have rainbow sprinkles?” Stiles mocks in a nasally voice. “NO. No we do not have rainbow sprinkles. Do you see anyone with sprinkles? No, no you don’t.”

He exhaled loudly, flopping his head to the side to look at Scott. 

“You get that out of your system?” Scott allowed, looking down at his phone. 

“No,” Stiles says. “And who are you texting, sir? I am right here you should not be texting anyone.”

“Allison,” Scott replied, sighing happily. 

Stiles cood at him, trying to grab at his phone. 

“Stop it,” Scott complained, slapping at Stiles’ hand and scooting his chair away. “Mine.”

\--

“Filler number three!” Stiles announced as he walks in the Storybook Treats. He saw another cast member sigh in relief, their shoulders visibly sagging as they came over to collect their receipt for their break. 

“You’re helping register four,” the tired cast member filled him in. “The frozen yogurt is runny like always and don’t use the machine by the door it’s been making a scary noise.”   
Stiles side-eyed the ice cream machine that everyone is avoiding, but nodded anyway. 

“Oh, Derek,” Stiles chimes as he arrived at his register. “It seems I have been assigned as your filler.”

“Thank god,” Derek said. “I need four twist cones and a chocolate cup; I’m getting all the vanillas.”

“Uh, okay, got it!” Stiles nodded, grabbing at cones with napkins until he had two cones in each hand. 

“Please don’t drop them,” he heard his coworker groan at him. 

Brandishing his cone-hands at the cast member, he nods solemnly but goes over to wait in the small line for the ice cream machine. The other fillers are trying to get their orders done quickly, but being down to one machine was slowing the process. 

Stiles eyed the other machine, and in a moment decided to risk it. Pulling down on the twist lever, he was rewarded with a sudden onslaught of slushy twist ice cream. He squealed, pushing up on the level but the machine started to make a grinding noise, still spitting out ice cream. 

“Help, help,” Stiles squawked, dropping the cones to grab at the bucket on top of the machine to try to catch the ice cream piling up on the catch plate. It slowed as it piled into the bucket and the machine ground out the last bit of its screaming noise. 

He turned to see Derek with a hand over his face, and the rest of the location looking at him. He heard a little girl giggle through the serving windows and he groaned. 

“I’ll call maintenance,” he sighed.

\--

The orders finally slowed as it hit the lull between lunch and dinner, when most of the guests were trying to get out of heat for a little bit. Stiles slumped against the counter, looking over at Derek and able to breathe for the first time since being filler. 

“Has it been like this all day?” Stiles started, trying to act casual as he watches the repair guy peer into the ice cream machine. 

“It’s a Friday,” Derek answered. 

“True,” Stiles sighed. “What time do you get off?”

“9:15.” 

“Hey, same!” Stiles cheered, his face lighting up. 

“Do you want to maybe do something after?” Derek asked, his face turning light red. “We should be able to change in time to see Wishes.”

“Yes!” Stiles screamed.

“So…” Derek started, looking out at the park in an attempt to not make eye contact in case he was wrong. “It’s a date?”

Stiles punched his arm in excitement. “You best believe it’s a date! This is totally a date. One hundred percent.”

\--

Derek waited outside the locker room, trying not to make eye contact with the other cast members that kept going around him. He side eyed a character performer wheeling a black bin towards the costuming department, keeping the shiver internal of knowing one of the characters was inside of there (the costume, not the person, but he wouldn’t put it past them).   
He’d broken out of his horror gaze by a hand swatting at his chest. 

“We gotta go now if we want to get a good spot for Wishes,” Stiles bugged him, pulling on his arm to try to get him to walk. His blue cast member ID swung against his chest as he pulled Derek through the tunnels with a smile on his face. They wormed their way out of a cast only area, emerging into the crowd and tucking in their IDs into their shirts. 

“Picking your Wishes spot is an art,” Stiles started as they walk closely towards the castle courtyard. “People always think you have to be way up close to the castle, but little do they know they end up not seeing all of the fireworks because they get blocked.” 

“And where is the optimal Wishes spot?”

“Somewhere around the Walt statue,” Stiles chimed back. “You can see the Celebrate the Magic show before but you can also see the fireworks. Some people say Main Street but that’s too far back for me.” 

“What about back by Gaston’s Tavern?” Derek questioned. “I always like how the fireworks feel like they’re right on top of you.”

Stiles made a noise of affirmation. Their hands brushed each other’s again and this time Derek grabbed Stiles’ hand and continued forward. 

“On my friend’s last day we watched them outside of Storybook Treats by the castle walls,” Derek started. “You’d think it wouldn’t be a great spot, but she made it seem so magical. Didn’t help that we were bawling in front of the guests.” 

“I can’t imagine leaving,” Stiles responded as they walk towards the newly revealed statue of Walt Disney and Mickey Mouse. It had been in a box while they did refurbishing of the Hub for a while (“When will they release Walt from his box? When will he be free?”), but with all the construction done for now the view wasn’t blocked. 

They set up camp right between the castle and the statue. 

“It’s rough,” Derek said. “No one thinks it’s going to be that bad but everyone’s college program has to end eventually. I mean some people go part time but for the most part, everyone goes back to college. The internationals go back to their homes across the world.” 

Silence fell over them as they looked at the illuminated castle in front of them. 

“Are you going back at the end of yours?” Stiles questioned, looking up at the castle instead of at him. “Where is home for you?”

“Beacon Hills, California,” Derek sighed. 

Stiles’ mouth dropped open and he turned to stare at Derek. “But your nametag says NYU? There is no way you’re from the same small town as me and I didn’t know you already.”

“I went to NYU but I graduated the semester before I came down,” Derek stopped and looked at Stiles. By now the lights down Main Street had been dimmed and the music for Wishes was starting. “Wait, you’re from Beacon Hills, too?”

“Yeah, Scott and I graduated almost two years ago.”

“Stiles Stilinski,” Derek realized, look over at Stiles as the fireworks burst over there head, Jimminey Cricket talking about the Blue Fairy. “Wait, you’re the sheriff’s kid? That Stilinski?”

Stiles laughed and Derek leaned in before he could chicken out, ducking in for a brief kiss. 

“So does this mean we’re a thing?” Stiles questioned when they pulled apart. The “soulful rendition” of Wishes played in the background and the crowds of tourists parted around them on their mass exodus of the park. 

Derek smiled, his hand coming up to rest on Stiles’ cheek. “Hell yes.”


End file.
